Must Be The Music: Girlshapedlovedrug
by Beaubier
Summary: Sixth Story in Must Be The Music. Cannonball and the Scarlet Witch were bound to have a fight over something, eventually...


TITLE: Must Be The Music: Girlshapedlovedrug  
AUTHOR: Beaubier  
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fastlove.for.rentATgmailDOTcom  
FANDOM: X-Men: Evolution  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Any time, just let me know!  
CATEGORY: Romance/Humor  
RATINGS/WARNINGS: Rated a very low M for language, nudity, and suggestive (but not explicit) situations. And a few other things that make life fun. But not all of them.  
SUMMARY: Sixth Story in Must Be The Music. Cannonball and the Scarlet Witch were bound to have a fight over something, eventually.  
DISCLAIMER: I didn't invent the X-Men and I have nothing to do with Evolution. If you somehow think I do: Thanks for the compliment, mislaid though it may be.  
NOTES: This is a sort of sequel to Thicker Than Water (which was a sequel to Relativity and then Here Comes Trouble), but it's not necessary to read that saga to catch on here. I'll make everything clear. That said, this is the sixth in a planned series of several one shots that explore the various main characters from TTW. Some will be serious, some fluffy, some just plain ridiculous (much like Here Comes Trouble, only more disjointed.) These stories will be written in chronological order beginning a few months after the end of TTW. They are generally stand-alone, like this one. (Some scenes also take place in the last one, _Old Yellow Bricks_, but they're not related to this story.)

This is Sam's. If you don't like this one, please hit up the next one just the same. They'll all be completely different from each other. Except that… you know. I'm writing them all. The current line up is Wanda, Warren, Jean-Paul, Jean, Rogue, Sam, Pietro, Alex, Scott, Aurora. But of course that's subject to change if I get a bug up my nose about something.

Thanks a million to Risty the Beta Reader of Awesome, who has the same idea of fluff (and oh, this is FLUFF!) as I.

* * *

000

* * *

**Must Be The Music Pt. 6**  
Girlshapedlovedrug

_She's a wicked girl, worse than all the world__  
a mystery lies in her__  
She spends her days in a violent rage__  
try as I might, I love her__  
Every time the tears are dry__  
the story goes what's left behind __  
shivers like a leaf, taciturn and gentle__  
It's not hard to believe__  
the girlshapedlovedrug messes with my mind_  
-Gomez

Sam wasn't really sure which part of the night was best: the music, the people, or the beer.

Well, okay. It was probably the people. But the music was awful fun—if not stuff he would've picked, exactly, but most people probably didn't wanna dance to Lynryd Skynryd. That was cool. Freebird was more of a sing-along kinda song than a dancing song anyhow. And the beer was… available. Which, for him anyhow, was pretty much the most important thing.

Yeah it was pretty illegal. He was conscious of it, and all. Just that where he was from, most people started drinking around ten years old. His granddaddy had been a moonshiner, his daddy had liked beer instead of coke, and they were all real upstanding type folk. Wasn't anything wrong with having a little fun.

That's what he was figuring after a few beers, at least.

He finished off his fifth and chucked it into a nearby trashcan; then caught sight of Rahne doing that little bounce dance she was so good at. She blushed when he met her eyes, but kept going. He just grinned, blushed a little himself, and looked up at 'Berto. who was watching her with a big old smile on his face.

Forge was passing one of those weird-looking cigarettes to Alex. Kitty was manning the laptop/music set up on her own in their absence. And lots of other kids were starting out back to check out the fire display that was apparently going on out there.

Sam went to the window and immediately figured why. There was a fire dragon out there. A real honest-to-god fire dragon. If that wasn't about the coolest damn thing—

"They're fucking crazy," Wanda's voice said in his ear. She leaned against his side a little heavily, wrapped her free arm around his and waved her beer belligerently at the dragon out the window with the other.

He grinned. Like usual, his first thought when she came around was to wonder what the hell he'd done to end up with a girl like that coming within ten feet of him.

And his second was to thank the Lord she did. Cause he'd never seen anything like her before, and he had a funny feeling he never would've otherwise.

"Always have been," he agreed. Pyro looked like he was cackling maniacally under the fire dragon—big surprise there. Everyone was getting closer and closer… 'cept Bobby, who was already heading back toward the house, looking a little pale. Also not a big surprise. Amara's mouth was open—he could see it all the way from the window. She looked like she'd accidentally walked into heaven.

"At least he's outside this time," Wanda slurred a bit.

Sam laughed, turned his head to look at her again. Thought she was awfully… wow.

She looked over and grinned at him. That evil kind of grin she got sometimes.

A lot of times.

It always meant good things. Like that she was about to—

She leaned forward and kissed him. Hard.

Sam smiled into it, let her push him up against the wall without even a little argument. He didn't like to argue—wouldn't be polite. That and… he liked it. She pressed against him, all aggressive-like, and he felt everything inside him melting into a puddle. She tasted nice—kinda like him, like beer, but also kinda like… Wanda. She had the best lips he'd ever seen (or felt, but that wasn't a real long list). They were real soft and a lot more gentle than… pretty much any other part of her. (Almost.) And sometimes, like right then, she'd kinda bite down on his lip just a little bit and…

Man. Unh… wow.

He slipped his arms around her waist, almost as much for support as just to feel her. His knees felt like mush. His head was all spinning. And now she had a hand on the back of his neck, and he was really in trouble. Cause she knew about that spot and if she went and—

"Hey. 'Scuse me!"

The kiss broke, they both turned their heads to see Bobby standing there. With two beers in his hands.

Wanda glared.

Sam tried to catch his breath, a little too dizzy to be disappointed. Anyhow, they were right in the middle of the living room. What if everyone came back and saw them…

Oh hell. Who cared?

"Before you two run off and find a room, I reserved a dance on this man's card," Bobby said.

Wanda rolled her eyes and let go of him.

Sam tried to keep himself upright without her. But it wasn't easy. Good Lord, the things she could do to him just like that… it wasn't even right. He leaned against the wall.

Bobby held out a beer. "Shotgun."

"I don't know," Sam tried to reason. It was tough though, seeing as he could barely find his own reason at the moment, so there wasn't a whole lot to be spreading around to people like Bobby Drake. "I've had an awful lot real fast."

"Don't be a punk." Bobby grinned, looking almost as evil as Wanda (only less hot), and handed over a beer. Then he pulled out a set of keys, punched a hole in the bottom of his beer can, and put his finger over it.

Sam grabbed the keys and punched a hole in his own can. Something buried real deep inside him told him he was gonna regret this. If not in about ten seconds, then tomorrow morning.

But Bobby had already lifted the tiny hole in his can up to mouth level, and had his finger on the tab. "Ready?"

Sam got himself in position. "Ready."

Bobby snapped the beer top open and Sam followed fast. A rush of beer shoved itself down his throat, and it was all he could do to keep up with the swallowing thing. No thoughts, just beer. Lots and lots of beer, really, really fast. Filling up his belly till… uh oh. What if it didn't fit? What if it filled him all the way up to his mouth and there was nowhere for it to go anymore? Kinda felt like it was about to… not much more room… oh man… not good…

Then it was done.

Sam took a deep breath, swallowed hard, made sure it was all gonna stay right where it belonged… then looked up at Bobby.

Who was only just finishing. He tossed his own empty can into the trash, a stream of beer trailing through the air after it… not to mention down Bobby's chin. "Fuck! You beat me!"

Sam shook his head. "Never again, man. That's the last time."

Wow. He was a little dizzy. But not Wanda Dizzy. Beer dizzy. Woooo…

Bobby staggered and laughed. "Last time till next time!"

Sam just grinned, still leaning on the wall. He didn't think he could do much more than that. He caught sight of Wanda dancing with Kitty and grinned even bigger. That was real cute, those two being friends. Seeming so different, and all.

"Damn that's hot." Bobby leaned against the wall next to him.

"What?"

"Wanda and Kitty. People would pay to see this."

Sam just blinked, confused.

"You retard," Bobby laughed.

But Sam just kept grinning. And maybe leaned against Bobby's shoulder a little. He wanted to turn around and see if the fire was still going out there, but kids were filing back in… and anyhow, turning around could be bad. He might… fall down or something.

No. He was happy. Right here.

* * *

Well he was dizzy again, but it was definitely Wanda Dizzy now. Still a little messed up maybe, but not that bad.

Which was good. 'Cause that could be kinda embarrassing. Seeing as it was really dark in Wanda's room. He'd hate to do something stupid and awkward (well, more awkward than usual) while making out with his girlfriend. His really… really… wow girlfriend.

And she was being very wow again. She didn't have a shirt on. She always had really pretty bras. He thought this one was red, but he could only just barely see the outline of her in the dark, and anyhow, it was all… pressed up against him at the moment. So whatever color it was… whatever.

She was different like this. Still all unafraid and aggressive, but sometimes she seemed to want him to be kinda like that too. And sometimes he forgot himself and managed. Like right now. Cause he'd somehow ended up sorta on top of her. And she had her legs all wrapped around him. And he was kissing her so much he couldn't breathe, and he didn't really know how he was gonna stop.

She wriggled a little bit underneath him and he sighed. Then he felt her fingers, all hot against his skin, tuck into the waist of his shorts. And tug.

Uh… that was probably bad. 'Cause if he lost the shorts, that would mean he'd be naked. Which… well he kinda had been with her before. Just not in this particular position. Not that it didn't sound like fun, just that, well…

Wanda was pretty drunk, still. And he was kinda. And that could be really bad.

She pulled at his shorts again, got them over his ass and slid herself upward underneath him so she could get them all the way off easier. It had the interesting side effect of taking all the air right out of him, feeling her all… moving like that up against him.

Brain dying. No air. Oh good Lord, this was gonna be dangerous.

She readjusted, he went along with her as best he could, fumbling in the dark and kicking his shorts off. Eventually they were on their sides facing each other. Wanda reached downward.

Sam held his breath.

She pulled at her own underwear. They were definitely red. And very, very see-through.

Uh oh. That was gonna make it even better. Or worse, depending. "Uh…," he tried to find his voice. The stupid stuttering sounded so loud in the dark. He hadn't heard anything but her breathing in his ear, the soft sound it made when they kissed, for what felt like a long time. "I don't… uh…"

"What?" She got rid of her underwear awful fast. Moved closer again. Put herself all up against him and…

Whoa. Okay, so this meant… what?

He had no idea. Man, though, she felt… wow. She was all soft and hard and warm and if anyone moved too much something real good (real bad) would happen and holy hell what was going on?

"Maybe we should…" His voice cracked there. What was he trying to say? Oh man…

She kissed his neck again. "We definitely should," she said into it. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

Oh. So she did mean… oh.

Oh wow. She was so… hot all over him. And his… that was all close to her… that. He reached out, put an arm around her waist. She was all smooth and perfect and he was definitely about to either drop dead or wake up, he was sure.

But it wasn't right. Not like this. Anyhow, he hadn't expected… this. So he didn't have the right… protection. "I don't have… I mean we… what if…" but she wouldn't stop kissing him so he couldn't think of how to say it. Her lips were just all tingling on his neck and he'd never felt this _much_ of her. All he could squeeze out was, "Anyhow I can't."

She stopped kissing him. Real abrupt-like. "You… can't?"

Yeah. That was what he meant. He didn't have a _thing_, and she was all drunk. So he definitely couldn't. That'd be terrible a terrible first time. She definitely deserved better. Oh man, so close. Would've been _so_ bad.

Disrespectful. He was already kicking himself.

As much as he could anyhow.

"I can't."

She pulled back a little. Looked him in the eye. "What the hell does that mean?"

Uh oh. Even stupefied as he was, drunk on her more than beer, he knew that voice. That look. "Well we don't have any—"

She cut him off, snapped, "You don't want to?"

"No—"

"_No_?" She pulled back now, sat up straight and looked down at him. Eyes narrowed.

Sam realized that he was in way more danger right now than he had been two minutes ago.

He sat up, grabbed at the sheet to cover himself. "No, I mean—"

"What the fuck?" She jerked the sheet out of his hands, then reached down and grabbed her little red underwear from the foot of the bed. And started putting them on. "Get out."

Shit. "No, Wanda," he stumbled on his hands and knees, grabbed at his own shorts and tried to get them on. "I didn't mean—"

"Are you going to get the fuck out of my room or do I need to help you?" she growled at him from the other side of the bed. Glared. There was just enough moonlight spilling in through the window to light her up a little. Just enough so he could see how very, very angry she was.

"No, please," he fumbled some more, pulled his shorts up and made it to his feet. Barely. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just maybe we should—"

Electric blue crackled around her fingers.

Sam clenched his jaw and braced himself.

"Get. _Out_." She pointed at him. Then the blue lightning around her hands jumped, rocketed toward him.

Slammed into him hard. He felt electricity crawling all over his skin, the impact on his chest. He hit the door with a crack.

It bent, a sound like wood splintering coming from somewhere inside it, then it fell open and slammed against the wall.

And Sam landed on his ass, in his boxer shorts, in the middle of the hallway. Painfully. His back and chest ached even worse than his ass though—there were gonna be some nice bruises there tomorrow.

But none of that mattered. He tried to get to his feet, staggered. "Wanda…"

She appeared in the doorway, right next to the now-crooked door. Still in her bra (it was black, as it turned out) and little see-through bikini underwear. Hands on her hips. "Fuck off."

He shook his head, propped himself up against the wall. Oh man, his ribs hurt. He never met an X-Man or bad guy that hit quite like Wanda Maximoff when she was angry.

"No please, I want to, it's just—"

Another door slammed open down the hall. A breeze brushed past him, and the last person Sam wanted to see right then appeared.

Pietro's eyes popped. "Oh my god…"

He stood there, turning pink, in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. Looking from his sister to Sam over and over again.

Sam braced himself again.

"Go the fuck back to bed, Pietro," Wanda spat.

Pietro found his voice right about then. "Put some fucking clothes on!" he screeched at her.

She just glared at him. Defiant (and painfully hot).

Pietro was in front of Sam suddenly. Blocking his view. "And _you_," he hissed. "Stop looking at her and get the _fuck_ out of my _house_!"

Sam tried to ignore him, pushed Pietro aside a little so he could see her.

She hadn't moved. Just standing there, glaring at him, a little pink in the cheeks in the glow from the hall light.

In her _underwear_. Oh sweet Lord, what had he been thinking?

"Wanda, please, don't be—"

She grabbed her raggedy door, turned around, and slammed it behind her as she disappeared into her room.

Sam's heart was in his throat as he watched. But a sort of resignation was already creeping up inside him.

He'd messed up. Real bad.

"What did you do to my sister?" Pietro was yelling in his face.

"Nothing," Sam muttered.

Why hadn't he been able to explain? He was only trying to be respectful. He… he loved her. He did, at least he thought he did. And he didn't want to hurt her by making some stupid mistake. That was all. It really was. How could she think he didn't want…? He'd give his right arm for…

Another figure appeared in the hallway then. A bleary-eyed Jean-Paul Beaubier, clad only in rumpled jeans. He was still buttoning the front of them as he came to inspect the scene.

He caught Sam's eyes over Pietro's shoulder. And shook his head. "You're on your own," was what Sam thought he was mouthing silently.

But before Sam could really decide what to do next, he had his mind made up for him. Pietro Maximoff's fist suddenly impacted with his face—making a white light explode just behind his left eye. The force of it sent Sam staggering backward against the wall. He couldn't see anything.

He kept trying, though. Maybe she'd come back and let him try again. Maybe she'd—

"GET _OUT_!" Pietro screeched. His voice was getting higher every time he opened his mouth, and it didn't help the pain in Sam's head.

Sam staggered again, but couldn't make himself listen. His vision was almost back now. If he could just talk to her for a minute, just one minute, it'd be okay.

Pietro was banging on her door now. "Let me in. Wanda, let me in_ right now_!"

Sam felt a steadying hand on his arm. Jean-Paul straightened him up, then leaned in close. "Here's a tip. Don't tell a Maximoff 'no' unless you're prepared to deal with the consequences."

Sam blinked at him, confused. And not seeing so well out of his throbbing left eye. But how the heck did JP know—?

"Don't talk to him!" Pietro looked over his shoulder and yelled at JP. Then he turned all the way around.

Sam's head pounded, his face ached, and his eyes burned.

"Get the _fuck_ out of here," Pietro hissed some more, "before I beat you to a bloody pulp. Do you understand English, you stupid fucking_ hick?_"

"My coat's hanging behind the door," Jean-Paul told him quietly. Rolling his eyes at Pietro and dragging a hand through his pillow-hair. Like he'd seen this all coming and it was almost amusing now that it was here.

Sam tried to say thank you, but his throat was all full of… something.

So he just turned and walked down the stairs, grabbed Jean-Paul's coat, put it on over his boxers, and started the long walk home.

* * *

"Oh dude, what happened?"

Sam looked to his right and tried to smile at Alex. If it were almost anyone else, he wouldn't have said why he had the beginnings of a great black eye this morning. But with Summers, for some reason, he never felt real worried about rumors.

What he _did _feel was a bright and fast flush coming into his cheeks. He'd hardly slept all night, and even when he'd managed to drift off, he was pretty sure he'd dreamed of his own… well, downright humiliation. Not even because he'd gotten socked in the face—he'd deserved it, he figured. Couldn't blame Pietro—he'd have done the same if it was, heaven forbid, Paige.

"Pietro Maximoff," he admitted.

Alex whistled low. "Ouch, dude. That sucks." And, like the nice guy he was, he didn't ask any more questions.

They turned into the breakfast room side by side.

And, of course, ran directly into Magneto.

Sam sighed to himself, shared a quick look with Alex. Who was a little flustered-looking and definitely understood.

"Sam, what happened to your eye?" Mr. Lensherr asked.

Sam's brain, still muddled from tiredness and the makings of a slight hangover, fluttered uselessly in his skull.

"Mosh pit accident," Alex piped up.

Sam shot him a grateful look.

Magneto didn't look impressed. "What's that?"

"Oh everyone jumps up and down in this really tiny space," Alex supplied. "To music. Elbows fly, man."

"And you do this for fun?"

Alex nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah man, it's great. Well, not the injuries, but…"

Sam slipped around them, on a direct heading for the sausage and bacon. It was a sausage and bacon kind of morning.

And he now officially owed Alex Summers his life. He could just see it now. Oh, hi Magneto. Your estranged son tried to kill me for being caught in a naked fight with your really hot estranged daughter. Me, your team leader. Please don't pull all the iron out of my blood and kill me. Thanks, man. You're the best.

Sam was usually all for a policy of honesty with the man. But yeah. Not this time.

He didn't feel so hungry anymore. But he sure did feel even more embarrassed.

Huh. He hadn't figured that was even possible 'till right then.

0

"Wanda, hey. Wait don't hang—"

Click.

"… up…" Sam sighed into the phone, and laid it back in the cradle. The big old surge of disappointment in his stomach didn't get any easier to handle, in spite of this being the fifth time today that had happened.

"Still no love?" Bobby asked, coming down the stairs.

Sam shook his head. It hurt a little when he did it, but he wasn't sure if it was the giant bruise on his face or just the hangover. Or the fact that he was an idiot. Because he was such an idiot, it really should hurt. "Yeah."

"What the hell did you do?" Bobby took the last few steps in one bound and leaned on the banister next to him.

"Nothin'," Sam admitted. "That's my problem."

"Come on dude, I need _details_. You survived a fight with two Maximoffs. You gotta tell tales of glory."

"Nah. It's nothin'," he said again. He wasn't giving details, not to anyone. It wasn't the kind of thing a man should talk about. Not even to his best friend. Especially if his best friend was kind of a blabber-mouth.

Too bad, too. Cause he could sure use some advice. He'd felt sick all morning, and it wasn't showing signs of letting up. And he _missed _her. Hell, they spent a day or two at a time without seeing each other outside of school sometimes. But this was different.

She hated him. And he didn't blame her. 'Cause he was the biggest idiot ever.

Amara suddenly appeared in the foyer, saving Sam from more questions. "Bobby!" She practically skipped over to them, smiled up at Bobby sweetly. "Shopping?"

Bobby's eyes darted around quickly. "Uh… I promised Jubilee…"

Amara made a face. One of those Angry Girl faces.

She wasn't half so good at it as Wanda, Sam noticed.

"You said you'd go shopping with me."

Bobby backed up a few steps, holding his hands out in front of him. "I… er well…"

Amara crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "Bobby…"

Jubilee suddenly appeared on the stairs. "Hey, Iceboy."

Bobby looked up at her, the relief obvious on his face. "_Man_," he corrected.

"We going?"

Amara's eyebrows shot up dangerously. She turned her glare on Jubilee. "He's shopping with me."

Jubilee shrugged, now on the last few steps. "Cool, I'll come."

Sam couldn't help but grin, though he tried to hide it.

Amara's lower lip stuck out immediately. "Great."

"Ah… okay then." Bobby shot Sam a quick, sheepish kinda look, then looked back to the girls. "Let's go."

But Amara wasn't impressed. She spun around, dark hair flying behind her. "Forget it." And she marched out of the foyer.

"Dodged that bullet," Bobby sighed quietly, coming closer to Sam so only the boys would hear it.

"What's her beef?" Jubilee wanted to know.

"Who knows. Later." Bobby started walking away.

But before he got two steps, Jubes had him by the back of the shirt. "Hey we're going rock climbing!"

Sam grinned even bigger now, and didn't bother trying not to let them see it. He had to admit… it was good having her back. Even if it meant he'd probably be in even more trouble than usual. Just for the fun of seeing Bobby in bad situations.

"Ah…," Bobby's eyes darted around again. "Sam needs me. Time of trouble."

Jubilee let go of her captive and turned to inspect Sam. "That eye looks bad, dude. You get Mr. McCoy to check it out?"

It wasn't actually his eye, which was good, and the swelling hadn't lasted. But it was kinda green and brown and unpleasant… and yes, Sam knew, ugly.

But he really didn't want to explain it to any of the adults. Definitely not.

"It's nothin'," he said for what felt like the thousandth time today.

Bobby threw an arm over his shoulders. "Moral support though, right bro?"

Sam couldn't help himself. He felt like hell, but he still had a sense of humor on him. "Nah, you can go."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at him. "_Sam_… you _need_ moral support."

"Right," Sam relented, laughing just a little. Laughing kinda hurt his head too.

Never drinking again. Really, this time.

Well, till next time. Or, at this rate, tonight.

"Sorry Jubes." Bobby squeezed him. "Unforseen circs and all."

Jubilee didn't seem to mind. She just nodded, making her high ponytail bob back and forth like it had a life of it's own. "Yeah, definitely." She took a few steps to Sam, went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Carefully. Then stepped back and said. "I'mma go see if Little Summers is up to it."

"Good call," Bobby agreed, sounding proud as if he'd come up with the plan himself. "Come on Sam, let's go have a talk." He started steering them both in the opposite direction Jubilee took off in.

Halfway to the rec room, Sam said, "Okay, you're free now."

Bobby took his arm off him, but didn't go. "Thanks man, I owe you. So, what'd you do?"

Sam shook his head… but carefully. "Honestly, it ain't… it ain't something I can talk about."

"Point of honor and all that crap?"

"Yeah."

"Change your mind, look me up."

Sam smiled. It felt a little funny on that left side of his face. For a skinny little guy, Maximoff packed a hard punch. "You just wanna know why Pietro punched me in the face."

"Everyone wants to know why Pietro punched you in the face, dude."

So it seemed. Somehow half the school he'd run into today already seemed to know that Pietro was responsible for his injury (well, the ones they could see—his ribs weren't feeling too hot either)—at least enough to make them ask. Sam didn't bother to wonder how. It was Xavier's. Everyone always knew.

But some things, they didn't need to know. Ever.

Like Wanda in her underwear, standing in the doorway glaring at him.

His stomach gave a little clench inside him, and he felt sick again, thinking about it. "Heh. Guess so."

Bobby gave him a suspicious look. "Sure you don't want me to stick around?"

"Nah. Be free." Sam waved him off with another laugh. Much as he needed a little friendly advice… he couldn't have it. So he'd just leave Bobby to avoid all the girls in relative freedom and safety. It was the best thing a friend could do.

"Hey you're not a ball-and-chain threat, Sammy." Then Bobby leaned in and kissed him on the cheek in a surprisingly accurate Jubilee impersonation. "I love you, man."

Sam just laughed again and waved.

Bobby loved him, at least.

Well wasn't that just a picture of how sad his life was. Sixteen years old and the most love he'd be getting today was from his best friend.

Wow. He was an idiot.

0

Scott and Jean were in the rec room when he slipped inside—but since they were watching _Enterprise_ he didn't mind sticking around. A little TV might be good for him. Take his mind off things… or at least, keep him from calling the Brotherhood house every five minutes. For now.

"Are you serious?" Jean was rolling her eyes, her feet kicked up in Scott's lap.

Scott was sprawled on the opposite end of the couch. He waved at Sam as he replied. "Definitely."

"You're so predictable."

"Hey, that can be a good thing," Scott pointed out. Sam noticed that his voice sounded a little… weaker than usual today. Huh. Weird. "If I weren't predictable, we'd all be dead by now."

"It's so _bad_, though." Jean did that wrinkling up her nose thing when she said it.

Scott sighed, obviously getting grouchy about this subject, whatever it was. "You honestly think Next Gen has _anything _as cool as Spock?"

Sam smiled to himself and settled into the armchair.

"Riker is hot shit," Jean insisted.

"Uhura is hot shit."

"Okay, I'll give you that, but Troi…"

"She wore those stupid non-uniform things 'til like the last season."

Sam tried not to laugh. But man, people were weird today. First Bobby running and hiding from various girls, now these two exes arguing about _Star Trek_…

Relationships were funny things.

Only, by funny, he meant not funny at all. And super painful. In every way possible.

"Uhura wore a miniskirt!" Jean blurted, clearly exasperated.

"It was a uniform!"

"Oh, whatever." She rolled her eyes some more. "_The Next Generation_ is superior."

"Jeannie, look, you know I respect your opinion, but that's stupid."

"_You're_ stupid."

"Sam," Scott had to look over his shoulder slightly to see him, "Original or Next Gen?"

Oh no. Sam wasn't getting in the middle of that. "_Deep Space Nine_."

Scott was momentarily silenced. "…yeah that one's good."

"God, you're _both_ stupid," Jean sighed.

Sam started to laugh, and looked up as someone new appeared in the doorway. It was Rogue.

But she stopped when she saw Scott and Jean on the couch. And left the room directly.

"What's her problem?" Jean asked.

"Who knows." Scott somehow managed to sound even grouchier.

"She go to the party yester…?" Jean trailed off, making a face that clearly said "busted."

Scott sighed at her. "I already know about it." He pushed her feet off his lap and turned around to look at Sam properly now. "How was it…" But he trailed off quickly. "Jesus. What happened to your eye?"

Jean bit her lip. And Sam realized that Jean was In The Know.

He just said, once more, "Nothin'. Enjoy the Trek, y'all. I'm getting hungry." And stood up to leave the room.

Somehow, watching them was a little rough. He didn't want to think about it too hard or anything. It just was.

0

Aurora grinned over her shoulder. "Hi Sammy. Can I make you a sandwich?"

Warren's idea of a greeting was a little more to the point. He looked at Sam's face with a definite expression of concern and surprise. "Wow… that must've been one hell of a party."

"Heh," Sam managed to laugh. It _was_ pretty funny if he thought about it. Anyhow, it had only been a matter of time before Pietro tried to kill him. Jean-Paul was probably all that saved him from it for the past few months, so he was past due. "No thanks," he told Aurora. "Just want some peanut butter crackers. Y'all enjoy the NYS party?"

Aurora pushed the peanut butter toward him, down the counter. "It was _wonderful_. We had such a good time, didn't we?"

Warren made a face that could've been amusement, but also could've been confusion. He either didn't remember much of the party or didn't remember it being a good time. "Yeah," he said anyhow.

If Aurora noticed that his response was at all half-assed, she didn't bother to make a big deal. She was moving on to bigger and better things. "And Jean's new boy is so adorable."

Sam had heard about that—hard not to around this place. But he didn't much care if the guy was good looking. So long as he was nice to Jean. "Oh yeah?"

"Apparently." This passed for agreement from Warren, who looked about a hair away from rolling his eyes this time. "So seriously, what happened?"

Sam focused on getting the lid off the peanut butter. Aurora had a mean grip—she always put the lids on real tight.

"Pietro hit him," she answered for him.

Sam shot her a sideways glance.

She smiled, all sympathy.

"Wow. Heh. Brothers are great." Warren's words were even _more _sympathetic.

Well if anyone was gonna understand the kind of danger Sam's life was in daily, it'd be Warren Worthington. But that didn't mean he could talk to the guy about it. "It's nothin'. Misunderstanding."

Aurora leaned on the counter with one hip, crossed her arms over her stomach and looked at him carefully. "I heard you fought with Wanda."

"I figured _she'_d hit you before Pietro," Warren laughed, as politely as was possible given the situation.

Sam pretty much had to join him. "Yeah no one's more surprised than me."

Aurora still looked sympathetic and serious, though. "Jean-Paul said it wasn't your fault."

Sam finally succeeded in getting the peanut butter jar open and reached for the crackers. That explained how the whole Institute found out, anyhow. If JP said something to Aurora, it was all over.

It was all right, though. Jean-Paul wouldn't have told her the extra embarrassing stuff.

At least… Sam didn't _think_ he would've. He felt his cheeks start to burn. "'Course it was."

"You're so sweet, Sam. She'll forget all about it soon."

Warren sounded unconvinced. He gave Aurora a look that said it all, but apparently that wasn't enough. "Have you _met_ Wanda Maximoff?"

Aurora shot him a warning look.

She had blue eyes, like Wanda, but Aurora's were a lot brighter. Kinda scarier in some ways, he figured. But not half as pretty. They weren't as wide, didn't have that kind of… well, depth. Not that he was real sure what that meant, but Sam always got that feeling when he looked at Wanda and she was thinking about something. That there was a lot going on back there. Sometimes he even got to see it, when she made one of her crazy awesome art things (which she always threw away, even though he'd asked her not to lots of times), or started writing in her little memory notebook thing.

"Sorry," Warren cut into his internal monologue, smiling. So Aurora had stopped glaring too, and returned to her sandwich-making. Clearly her threats weren't as serious as Wanda's… at least, on a good day. "Believe me, I feel for you, Sam."

Aurora favored her boyfriend with a sweet smile, and brought him a newly completed sandwich. Then kissed his cheek and said something into his ear.

Whatever it was, it made Warren flush a little.

Sam turned back to the counter and started putting together his crackers. Quickly. A little laughing from the other two sped him up even more. Finally he put the lid back on the peanut butter and started out of the kitchen with his paper plate full of snack. "Later you two." He didn't look back at them. He didn't really think that would be appropriate. Lord only knew, with those two.

"Take care of that eye, Sammy," Aurora suggested.

He said thanks, and got the hell outta Dodge.

0

He guessed it was never meant to end peacefully, really. But definitely meant to end.

Walking around the grounds by himself, hands stuffed in the pockets of his track jacket, Sam couldn't help but feel a little lost. Maybe it was just a little argument. Scott and Jean used to argue all the time. 'Course, they were broken up now. And Jean was apparently dating someone else.

The thought made Sam a little sad. He guessed if Wanda wanted to date someone else, he'd be okay. So long as the guy was good to her.

Only not really. 'Cause he didn't think Scott was still in love with Jean. And he was pretty sure… okay, really sure, that he was with Wanda.

Yeah, he'd never come out and said it, but you just didn't say things like that to a girl like Wanda. A girl who was smarter, stronger, and just generally better than everyone around her didn't want to hear pathetic stuff. She was understanding as could be when it counted, she worked real hard to try and understand him, his family, everything in his life that was so different from hers. That was more than anyone had a right to expect from a girl like that.

And he'd had it. And he'd messed it all up.

But it _had_ been a misunderstanding. And it wasn't real hard to figure out why it had happened—he just hadn't found the right words in time. Wanda's temper… hell, he loved it. But he knew it, was the point, and he should've seen it coming. Should've tried harder. Should've made her understand that he only wanted…

Hell. Wasn't worth thinking about. It'd only depress him, and so long as Wanda was happy, he didn't care. She probably _would_ be happier this way, anyhow.

He wasn't like Bobby though, who could flirt with everyone and not think twice. He couldn't help missing her.

And they weren't like Scott and Jean, who could come out of a relationship on the other side and still be friends. They didn't grow up best friends—hell, they'd only just met, really. And they weren't like Aurora and Warren, who could spend all day staring at each other and get over every little battle with a sandwich and a couple of sweet words.

She was Wanda, and he was Sam, and it had been stupid of him to think that'd work in the first place. She was too good for him. Best to just accept it.

And really. No use in thinking about it anymore.

He came around the corner onto the back patio and the sound of splashing caught his attention. It was a little chilly for the pool (it was closed up anyhow), but he found the source fast enough. Roberto was standing up in the hot tub, posing like some kind of Greek statue of an athlete.

And Rahne was nearby, rolling her eyes.

Sam smiled, forgetting himself for a minute.

Rahne spotted him quickly, stood up and waved at him to come over. Roberto looked down at her, annoyed that she wasn't paying attention to him. But when he looked up and saw Sam there, he smiled too.

He trotted over to them. "Hey y'all. How's the water?"

"Awesome." Roberto dropped back under it, sat himself across from Rahne.

She nodded in agreement, pigtails bobbing, and waved him a little closer. "Come here then, let's see that eye."

He stepped up to let her examine his battle wounds. "S'alright," he said.

Roberto eyed him. "Was it really Pietro? Or was it Wanda?"

"Pietro."

Roberto punched at the surface of the water. "Hell. I owe Bobby ten bucks. I bet it was Wanda."

Rahne shot him a dirty look. "How could you bet on something like that?"

"Come on, Pietro's a little puss." Roberto shrugged. "It was a sure shot."

Rahne gave one more disapproving glance, then returned her attention fully to Sam. "It doesnae look so awful. Looks all right, really."

"Chicks dig scars and bruises," Roberto pointed out.

Rahne looked at him sideways once again, one eyebrow raised. "And how would you know?"

"I know."

Sam laughed, shaking his head a little. He'd argue if he thought it wasn't true. But from what he'd seen… well, Roberto might've been a little forward about things. But it seemed to work out for him okay.

Rahne apparently wasn't as convinced. "And what do boys _dig_, then?"

Roberto just raised his eyebrows. "Redheads."

Rahne cocked her head, looking thoughtful. "Aye, I suppose Jean is verra…" And then it dawned, and she turned bright red under her freckles, stood up, and hopped out of the hot tub immediately. "Honestly," she was muttering under her breath.

Roberto watched her go. Sam noticed the difference in how much more obvious Roberto was about checking her out. For 'Berto, it was about as respectful as it got that he waited till her back was turned. So as not to embarrass her.

And if there was one guy Sam could handle looking at Rahne like that… weirdly enough, it was DaCosta. The guy had been crazy about her forever—so much so that to most of the new recruits (now officially the New Mutants) JM had kinda looked like a rebound after Rahne had to go back to Scotland. Now that Rahne was back… well, good for him.

"Smooth," Sam commented. He grinned.

Roberto just shrugged again, lowered his voice. "Doesn't matter what I say, she'll just keep pretending not to notice."

"True enough." Wasn't it just? It was another sign of just how much respect 'Berto had for the girl though, that he wasn't trying to… kiss her.

That'd be weird. Someone kissing Rahne. Seemed all wrong somehow. Not that she wasn't just about the cutest thing in the world, cause she probably was. Just that…

Well, it was weird.

"I don't mind," Roberto said quietly.

Sam grinned at him. "I know it, boy. Good thing, or you'd end up with one of these," he gestured to his bruised cheek/eye area to illustrate.

Roberto grinned right back, then patted him on the back with a dripping wet hand. And stood up to go after Rahne, who had now dried herself off, tied her towel over her bathing suit, and gathered up her clothes. Obviously planning to go back inside and rid herself of ridiculous boys and the ridiculous things they said to her.

He watched 'Berto walk up behind Rahne, throw an arm over her shoulder casually. Saw the look she gave him, half-annoyed, half-surprised.

It made him smile. Somehow, watching them had the opposite effect the other two couples he'd ended up with earlier in the day. He actually felt kinda… hopeful, now. Like… maybe he shouldn't just give up the fight, yet.

* * *

He rang the doorbell, then stuffed his hands back into his pockets. And waited, his heart beating fast, the bruise on his face starting to throb a little. It was kinda blending with his slight hangover headache.

No more shotgunning ever. Seriously.

But the thought was torn out of his head quickly soon enough—the door swung open. And there was Pietro. Staring down at him from the top step. "Nice face," he snapped, his expression all Extra Evil. Made him look sharp, somehow. Literally, like a knife. "Get in a fight with a bear?"

"Something like that." Sam wasn't going to argue with the guy. He'd deserved it, whether Pietro knew the real reason or not. That wasn't what he was here for. Not by a long shot.

"Wanda doesn't want to see you," Pietro sniffed, sticking his chin out defiantly. "Ever again. So fuck off and die."

"Shut up Pietro."

Sam's knees went a little weak when he heard her voice from inside the house. His face felt hot and his heart stopped completely.

"Come in, Sam."

Pietro leaned forward and lowered his voice. He poked one finger into Sam's chest. "Touch her again and I'll castrate you."

And before Sam could even imagine replying, he was gone.

Wanda was coming down the steps. She had on a pair of black calf-length pants and a crop top that said "Property of ESU Athletics." No make up—she was pale and tired-looking. Nothing in her hair, so it stuck up everywhere.

She looked beautiful. He liked her when she got dressed up, when she put on her makeup and got all goth. And he liked her in the morning when she rolled out of bed, usually irritated, and walked around for an hour looking confused and half-dead. And…

It'd be pretty damn miserable never to see her like this again.

Maybe she'd listen to him. Maybe she'd take him back.

He couldn't help but hope, looking at her like that.

"Fucktard," she muttered, glaring after her long-gone brother. Then she turned her attention to Sam. "Hey." She seemed to squint a little into the light outside.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Headache. That beer was shit."

He just smiled. He figured she'd know that meant he agreed. He never had to say obvious things with Wanda.

"What do you want?"

It didn't sound as… angry as he'd expected. But it did sound pretty impatient.

No point in beating around the bush. Never was with her. "I wanted to see you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, here I am."

"Can we…?" He nodded past her, up the stairs. He didn't want to talk right there, not with Pietro lurking around the corner. Because he definitely was. No doubt in Sam's mind.

She seemed to consider his proposition. For one terrible minute, he thought for sure she'd tell him to fuck off again.

But then she seemed to sigh a little. She turned around and started back up the stairs. "Come up."

He stepped inside, closed the door behind him. That breeze that announced Pietro brushed by him, and he heard in his hear. "I _will_ do it. Do not fuck with me, Podunk."

As Sam turned, fully planning to push past Pietro and ignore him, a bright blue hex suddenly exploded at the back of Pietro's head, knocking him out of Sam's way.

Sam smiled up the stairs at Wanda. But she was already around the corner.

0

She closed the door behind him when he slipped inside.

Her room was dark—she had all the curtains drawn so that only a small sliver of light managed to sneak in. Otherwise it was just a faint red glow from what little got through them. The composition book on her desk was open, and there was a new pile of magazines beside her bed.

He couldn't remember if they'd been in those spots last night, or if they'd even been there at all.

His face started to burn.

"He got you pretty good," she said, moving to the desk. When she got there she closed her book, then turned around and leaned on it.

"Yeah, almost as good as I deserved." He smiled through the heat rising all over him. Remembering how… good Lord. Stupid. So, so stupid.

She nearly smiled back—he could've sworn one corner of her lips twitched upward for a heartbeat. But she didn't. She just leaned back, hands on the desk behind her, and looked at him. "Okay. What?"

Fifty million damn stupid ideas flew through his brain. Should he tell her he was sorry first? Should he tell her he loved her? Wanted to sleep with her?

Right. Maybe none of that. This was Wanda.

And thank the Lord for that.

"I didn't mean any of it like that."

Her expression was immovable. "Any of what?"

"What I said. What I … didn't do. Wanda I—"

But just when he got going, she stood up straight and cut him off. "How else _could_ you mean it? So you don't want to have sex, whatever." She shrugged, but she looked away when she said it.

He'd really hurt her feelings. When Wanda's feelings got hurt, it didn't happen like with other people. She felt everything, she just… didn't know what to call it, maybe.

He had to be real careful. She hadn't hexed the hell out of him yet, that was a good sign. The best sign ever. "No. I do." Wait. He wasn't supposed to just _say_ that. "I mean…"

She just watched him.

But he knew damn well she wasn't going to wait long.

"You were drunk. And we never… I mean have you ever…?"

"No. So what? Have you?"

He kinda figured she wouldn't care about what they had and hadn't done before. Actually… maybe she did. But if she did, would she even realize it?

"No. But what if you didn't want to, really?" He tried to explain as carefully as he could, shoved his hands back into his pockets to try and keep them from gesturing in the air and making him look like even more of a dumb ass. "I mean people do stuff they don't wanna do all the time when they're drunk. And what if you got mad at me because I took advantage of the… ah… situation…"

She blinked. "Are you retarded?"

It sounded so stupid when he said it out loud. He wasn't even sorry anymore—he knew he'd never have felt right about it if he hadn't stopped when he did. But… why hadn't he just explained it last night? There was nothing he could do but confess completely. "I think so, yeah. Must be."

"You think I'd be _mad_ if we screwed? What's the point of having a boyfriend if I can't even get laid? Jesus Christ, Sam, if I want a friend I have Kitty."

He smiled, felt his face get even pinker. And his stomach get a little warm and… something nice. Heh. Wanda. "I just wanted to be sure, is all."

She softened visibly. Her shoulders slumped, she leaned back on the desk. It was such a huge relief to him that his eyes actually started to burn a little.

But she wasn't quite done. "You fucking turned me down."

He took a few steps toward her, let his hands out to gesture emphatically. "No. No I didn't, really. I just couldn't…"

"Do me?"

"No. I definitely…" _would give my left nut for the chance?_

Wait… no, that wasn't respectful at all. Course, she'd said it first, so did that make it okay? Right, well, best to play it safe and not refer to that area of his anatomy for the moment. Things were going better than expected, and with his track record he really shouldn't be going out on limbs and such. "I definitely could. But I just couldn't then. I really needed to know. So it could be right."

"Right? How does that work, you take me to a swanky hotel room? That's fucking creepy."

He smiled again, though he wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with him, making him do that. But the girl was right, as usual. That was definitely fucking creepy. "No. I just… I never want to hurt you. You know I wouldn't. I love you."

The minute it was out, he froze. _Now_ his face was burning.

And she just looked at him. Head still cocked. Like she was afraid he might have completely lost his mind.

He was pretty sure he must've. But apparently he wasn't done, because that was right about when he said, "A lot."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, almost in suspicion. She didn't look… well grossed out, which was kinda nice. But she also kind of looked like he'd accidentally slipped into a foreign language she wasn't real familiar with for a minute there.

"I don't want you to say that or anything," he said quickly. His voice was getting a little high and weird. "I'm just trying to explain, is all. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I wanted to… make you happy. I was tryin' to be respectful."

Okay. Well… he'd definitely gone and made a right ass out of himself. But that was what he'd come here for. So, right. Done. Cards on the table and all that.

"You didn't hurt my feelings," she said.

He winced a little, but tried not to show it. "Oh."

But she stopped, stood up straight again. "Wait. Maybe… you did." She stared at him for another second, like she could read the answers somewhere on his face. Then finally gave up and said, "I don't know. I just wanted to murder you."

She couldn't have said anything to make him feel better than that did. Not that he was happy to hear he'd hurt her, or that she'd harbored thoughts of homicide, but that was kinda what he was thinking had been going on here. All he knew was that if she didn't care at all, then he was on his own. And this was Wanda caring.

Which was good, since he didn't much want to be on his own. "Do you get why I said what I said?"

She watched him for another second. Then nodded slowly. And, to Sam's immediate and most awesome relief, the corner of her lips started tugging upward again.

"Anyhow," he swallowed hard. "I didn't have any… uh… you know." He made a little gesture with his hand—like a tiny square package. Cause that was another thing he wasn't sure he could say to her directly.

That made Wanda smile outright. And it was, unmistakably and unbelievably, that really, really evil grin of hers. "Pietro does."

There was a familiar feeling spreading through him now. It made him a little dizzy. "Oh."

She took a few steps closer, still grinning. And arched an eyebrow at him pointedly.

Okay. So she was sober, Pietro was a manwhore, and everything was…

Right.

Holy crap. Everything was right. Ohhhh Lord… "Oh. Uh… well… if…"

"Yes," she said.

And if he didn't go fast, he wasn't real sure he'd be able to go at all. "Oh hell, where are they?"

She rolled her eyes. "Everywhere. But there are some in the medicine chest."

"Don't go anywhere."

In five seconds he was digging through the Brotherhood bathroom like the world would explode if he didn't find the box he needed. When he did, he grabbed four or five little foil packages, shoved them into his pocket, and took off back down the hall. Grinning like an idiot.

He so didn't even deserve to have her look at him. But even if Sam Guthrie wasn't the smartest guy in the world, he was a guy who learned from his mistakes, at least.

Good thing he hadn't holed up in his room or something after Warren and Aurora had kinda brought him down with their weirdness. If he hadn't run into 'Berto and Rahne, he'd probably still be feeling sorry for himself. Instead of booking it down the hall toward Wanda's room. With a really good chance of…

Potentially embarrassing the hell out of himself again.

But hey, they'd figure it out. They usually did.

Pietro poked his head out his own door as Sam ran by. "What the fuck are you doing still here?"

Sam swung round into Wanda's room. "Busy, can't talk," he shot over his shoulder, as apologetically as he could manage at the moment.

And he closed the door behind him.

Wanda was still standing there, looking at him. But her smile was a little less evil. Not much, but a little.

Sam's knees pretty much gave out right then.

"You hurt my feelings," she said. Then she kinda laughed.

"I'm so sorry, Wanda…," but he smiled too. Because he knew that in that crazy wonderful Wanda way, she was really happy about it.

"Fuck the apology. You can make it up to me."

* * *

00

* * *

AN: Still alive! Thanks a lot to everyone who's still hanging out here and interested, and those of you who've emailed me to make sure I'm not dead. It's been a bit of a crazy year between this and the last one (check the website out if you like dark spec fic/fantasy, might explain a thing or two), but I'm not abandoning anything! Next up, Pietro. Much faster than a year later. I promise. Not like PIETRO fast... but fast, seriously!


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